


Sherlock And His Admirer

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Date, A Stranger - Freeform, Blog Comments, Busted, Confusion, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Flirting, Letter, Love, M/M, Romance, Secret Admirer, Sneaky John, Sneaky Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Day One, John and Sherlock had been clear where they stood on romance -- John wasn't interested in it with men and Sherlock wasn't interested in it full stop. John's feelings change, but he's not sure if Sherlock's have. He can't bring himself to ask but maybe a stranger could get the information John is so desperate to discover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John's Plan

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

John was walking home from work, trying to take his nervous energy out on something other than the letter in his pocket. He had a very slow day at the surgery and plenty of time to think about how exactly he wanted to start this little plan of his. Of course he had no real plan -- there was no way of knowing how this was going to go until he saw Sherlock's reaction to this first letter. Not that Sherlock would know it was from him, of course. That was the whole point. 

Over the last few months John had realised his feelings for Sherlock were more than a flatmate's should be -- even more than a friend's should be. This was all new to him -- he'd only ever had these feelings for women, and at first he'd assumed they'd just go away once he got a girlfriend. But no woman could compare to Sherlock. John wanted them all to be Sherlock. John could no longer deny it: he wanted Sherlock.

However, accepting the truth about his feelings wasn't the only complication. Sherlock didn't do relationships -- not with men or with women. At least that's what he said on the first day they had met. Of course on that day, John had also said he wasn't interested in men. John's feelings had obviously changed, but had Sherlock's? John was hoping to find out.

As he walked up to the flat, he grabbed the rest of the post and slipped his letter into the pile randomly. This was it. When he walked up he hung his coat and called out for Sherlock, setting the post on the table. He never made a big deal about the post so he needed to be normal. He didn't want Sherlock to notice any difference in his behaviour. 

Sherlock had just finished tidying up his experiment when he heard John come in. He glanced over. "You look terrible," he said before turning back to the table.

"Yeah, it's nice to see you too," John grumbled, pulling open the fridge to find some food. There was one egg and what looked like a bag of fingers. Well, it was a bag of fingers because this was Sherlock's fridge as well, and so why wouldn't there be body parts instead of food?

"John? Oh, I thought I heard you come up," a voice said. Mrs Hudson walked in and handed John a takeaway box. "Your leftovers -- I snuck them out earlier when I saw what he brought home." 

John could have kissed her. "Thank you," he said, moving to heat them in the microwave. Another finger was in there as well, just sitting on the turning plate. He sighed and leaned against the counter to eat them cold. That was better than nothing. When he looked up, his heart stopped a bit -- Mrs Hudson was standing at the table, going through their post. 

"I've been waiting for a letter and I just thought maybe you'd -- oh! Sherlock, here's something for you. It looks personal," she said, noticing that the envelope was plain with only Sherlock's name was written on the front. John had had a patient write the name on the front, he typed the note on the computer, and printed it at the copy store down the street. He didn't want Sherlock tracing anything back to him.

"Open it for me," Sherlock called, collecting the fingers into a container. He was annoyed that John was annoyed about his mess which he was, after all, in the process of cleaning up. It wasn't Sherlock's fault John hadn't come home five minutes later when everything would have been put away.

Mrs Hudson started opening the letter, and John was helpless to stop it. It was just another letter to Sherlock, and John had to pretend it was the same for him. He continued eating quietly. "'Dear Sherlock Holmes, I just wanted to say that I am a huge fan of your work. You are brilliant. And handsome as well.' Oh! Sherlock, it's signed 'your secret admirer'! How mysterious." She giggled and set the letter down, going back to looking through the rest of the stack. John was flushed and embarrassed. It had sounded better when he was writing it at his desk -- it'd been hard to write a letter like this and not have it come off as a creepy stalker. He turned to get some water, trying to act uninterested. Was Sherlock interested? 

"Did you write that?" Sherlock asked.

"What?" John asked, nearly dropping his glass. "Of course I didn't!"

"Not you, you idiot," Sherlock said, looking over at him. "I was asking Mrs Hudson." He dried his hands and turned towards her. "So did you? Is this some little game of yours to try to get me to start dating?"  
  
"Of course I didn't," Mrs Hudson said, setting the post down. "I wouldn't wish you on anyone. Sometimes you're horrible, you know. I'm guessing they meant to send it to a different Sherlock Holmes because you don't look very brilliant or handsome with that . . . gunk all over the front of you," she added.  
  
Sherlock glanced down. "It's not gunk, it's blood." He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, grabbing a clean t-shirt from the basket John had left in the corner. "There, happy? Can I just say up until a few minutes ago I was very happily and quietly working and now you two have brought insults and upset to this flat. I'm weary now," he said, moving over to flop onto the sofa. "I think you'll have to take charge of the tidying up, John -- I'm too upset to do anything else."

Mrs Hudson looked sympathetically at John and then left.

"You can live in filth for all I care," John said. He found himself a little annoyed at Sherlock's reaction. Of course a part of him knew that it might go this way, but it still bothered him a bit. "I am going up to bed." He put the last of his food into the fridge knowing he might never see it again, refilled his glass with water and made his way for the stairs, wondering if this had all been stupid as he lay down on his bed.

Of course, he wasn't going to give up after just one failed attempt. He just needed a better plan for the next letter. There was going to be some work breaking through to Sherlock. He sat up and got his computer.

Sherlock looked around the empty room. This wasn't very fun. He took out his phone.

_Are you cross that I have a secret admirer and you don't? SH_

John was browsing the blog and trying to think of a better letter when his phone went off on the table beside him. He raised his brows. 

_You caught me. -JW_

_Well, even though it's not a secret, remember that I admire you. Does that help? SH_

_Well, that's very nice of you. -JW_

_Don't go to bed. I'm bored. Come back, please. SH_

_I'm not cleaning the flat despite your flattery. -JW_

_I was only teasing. Why are you so tetchy this evening? SH_

_I'm not. I just had a long day. -JW_

Sherlock hadn't really thought that John was tetchy, but now he was sure he was, but had no idea why.

_Come downstairs or I'm coming up there. SH_

_You're not coming up here. I am already comfortable and working. -JW_

_Fine. I don't admire you anymore. Good night. SH_

Sherlock slid off the sofa and got up to make a cup of tea.

John rolled his eyes lightly and set the phone next to him. In his next letter he was going to try a question to see how Sherlock would feel about the possibility of having to reply. But how would he make Sherlock do that? He didn't want to seem too suspicious. It had been a big enough risk with an unsent letter, but then again, Sherlock hadn't even looked at the envelope to know that. How could John get his attention?

Sherlock took his cup of tea into his room. He read for a little and then turned off his light. He wasn't quite sure what precisely had gone on tonight -- why things had gone so strangely. Everything that had happened had been pretty normal. In fact, that letter had been the only unusual thing. He got out of bed and retrieved it from the table, bringing it back into the room. He examined it, but then he decided that the real issue was John's reaction to the letter. But he still didn't know what it meant.

John sat up suddenly. He was so stupid to use a letter! He pulled open the blog and went to the latest case he'd typed up. He clicked on Add a Comment and switched the user to anonymous.

**20:37 Nov 8**

**I knew you were brilliant! I can't wait to read about the amazing cases you've solved. Tell your blogger to post some more pictures as well ;)-Anonymous**

John submitted the comment and quickly shut the computer, taking out his book instead. If Sherlock came up to tell him about it, John could pretend he had no idea yet. 

Sherlock's phone made a noise, indicating someone had posted on the blog. Is that what John had been working on? They hadn't had any new cases so what was he writing up? He pulled his laptop over and saw that it wasn't a new post, it was a comment. Hmm…the word brilliant again, a request for photos and a wink. Worrying. He sent John a text.

_We've got a new comment on the blog. Please read and advise. Should I be worried about this so-called admirer? SH_

John grinned at the message and waited a little over five minutes to reply back.

_Seems pretty harmless to me. Looks like it's just a crush. -JW_

_Seems unlikely. Why would anyone have a crush on me? I'm intolerable. SH_

_You'll have to ask the admirer. -JW_

Sherlock Holmes was an idiot sometimes, John thought. How he could be so unaware of how attractive he was?

Sherlock went back to his laptop and typed out a reply to the comment.

**20.46 Nov 8**

**Why are you bothering me? SH**

Seconds later John's phone notified him of a comment. He quickly opened the computer and found the reply. Oh.

**20.48 Nov 8**

**Not bothering, just admiring. I just find you so fascinating.-Anonymous**

**20.49 Nov 8**

**What do you want? SH**

**20.53 Nov 8**

**To know more about you.-Anonymous**

John closed the computer now and put it on the floor. He couldn't overdo it all at once. Whatever Sherlock replied with John would answer it later.

Sherlock sent John a text.

_Are you reading these comments? I'm worried. Who do you think it is? SH_

John waited the appropriate amount of time it would take to look up the comments.

_It still seems harmless to me. Don't worry, okay? -JW_

He knew that was useless advice -- if the situation were reversed, he would have been cautious of someone's attention like this. But he was writing it and he needed to see how Sherlock responded to someone flirting with him.

_Do you think they mean to be nice or menacing? I can't decide. SH_

_Give it a little bit longer and see where they go with it. -JW_

_And if they end up killing me, you're all right with that on your conscience? SH_

_I said just wait and see. It's not like you're meeting them, it's just chat. -JW_

_So if they want to meet, you think I should say no? SH_

John blinked at the message for a moment. He hadn't expected that to come up so fast. Sherlock said he didn't do that sort of thing so why was he asking for John's opinion now?

_Well, that's up to you. -JW_

_But you just said not to meet them. So either you have control issues or you do think they might be dangerous. Which is it? SH_

_I meant not yet. Or rather just whatever you want to do. I don't think they are dangerous and that's all I'm saying on the matter. -JW_

_Don't pretend this doesn't involve you. SH_

John's stomach jumped a bit.

_It's nothing to do with me. You're the one they have a crush on. -JW_

_They know where we live. If they want to kill me, they won't leave you as a witness. Any danger to me could be danger to you. SH_

_I really don't think anyone is going to kill you. A lot of people know where we live. If they wanted to kill you, I doubt they'd have taken this approach. JW_

_So what do they want? It's unusual, you must admit. Tell me what to think. SH  
_

_I can't tell you how to feel, Sherlock. -JW_

This was an awful position to be in. He wanted to tell Sherlock to be open-minded, but that would be for his own benefit and this had to be Sherlock's decision. If Sherlock was actually considering a stranger, maybe that meant he'd be willing to consider a friend. Maybe he'd be willing to consider John.

_I'm tired of thinking about this tonight. It's probably just some random thing. Are you still pouting or working or whatever? SH_

_I'm reading, actually. -JW_

_I'll see you in the morning then. SH  
_

_Good night, Sherlock. -JW_

John sat up again and got ready for bed, opening his book again but finding it hard to focus. Sherlock thought this person was done now, so the next message needed to be even better, something that would really catch his attention. He figured he'd stay away from the post and stick to the comments, but tomorrow he'd go to Sherlock's blog. That would really surprise him _  
_

Sherlock lay down on his bed. He was thinking about the person who had sent the letter whom he presumed was the same person who had posted the comments. He was also thinking about John.


	2. John's New Plan

When John woke up in the morning, he got ready for work and thought about what to do for his next move. He needed to intrigue Sherlock. Before he left he opened Sherlock's blog.

**07.56 Nov 9**

**I'm setting up a puzzle for you since you like them so much. :)-Anonymous**

He sent it and quickly left the flat.

Sherlock heard the noise of his phone and rolled over. A message but on his blog this time, not John's. He read it and sat straight up. He got out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown, moving into the kitchen. "John, they're back," he called but he looked round to see the flat empty. He went back into his room and grabbed his phone.

_There's a new message but on my blog. They're setting a puzzle. What do you think? SH_

_I think they know what you like. -JW_

_Do I like this? If I'm dead when you get home, please get Lestrade on the case, yeah? SH_

_I promise. -JW_

John grinned and worked through to his break before sending another message.

**13.37 Nov 9**

**I also love Italian food. We have so much in common. -Anonymous**

Sherlock had showered and dressed and had spread some new work out over the table. The phone made a noise, and he grabbed at it quickly. He read the comment over and over. It seemed more . . . personal. It wasn't about his skills at solving case, it wasn't about his work. It was only about Sherlock. Why?

**14.20 Nov 9**

**Who are you? SH**

John waited until he finished with work to reply.

**17.45 Nov 9**

**Patience. -Anonymous**

Sherlock was annoyed but also maybe a little curious. Which was unusual. Rarely did individual people arouse his curiosity -- cases, yes, but not people, except John, of course, but he was special. Maybe this was actually just a case? Maybe that's how he should look at it: this mystery was just coming in in a different form than usual. That's all this was, he tried to convince himself.

John picked up food on his way home, eager to get there and see how Sherlock was responding to the new comments. He wouldn't send the next one until tomorrow to give Sherlock some time to stew it over.

Sherlock was sitting at his desk when John came in. "Are admirers always so annoying?" he asked, finishing the bit of work he was doing before getting up and moving to the kitchen. "Thanks for the food by the way." He didn't help John with dishing it but instead sat down at the table, waiting to be served.

"What's happened now?" John asked, serving Sherlock his dinner. He put his own on the plate and sat at the table.

"Well, I'll be honest . . . my curiosity is piqued," Sherlock said, picking up his fork and moving the food around the plate. "That's annoying to me for some reason."

"Piqued how?" John asked, waiting for his reply. Was he flattered? Was he going to start flirting back?

"Well, it's unusual, isn't it? I mean, unusual is usually good, but I suppose it's annoying because I don't know what's going on. I like knowing, John. You know that."

"I know," John said. "So you don't like the flirting?"

"Is it flirting? Is that what this is? What makes you so sure?" Sherlock asked. "I'm not saying it's not, I guess. I'm not sure I'd recognise flirting. I'm asking you genuinely -- do you think it's flirting?"

John nodded. "I mean, they called themselves an admirer," he said, careful not to reveal anything about messages he supposedly hadn't read yet.

"Interesting," Sherlock said. He looked down at his food as he fiddled with his fork. He found it odd that John wasn't bothered by this.

John nodded and went back to his meal slowly. Was 'interesting' a good response? To Sherlock even mould was interesting, so that really didn't tell John much. "So what else have they said?"

"I think they might want to have dinner at Angelo's," Sherlock said. "But they won't tell me who they are."

"If you found out they weren't a murderer and genuinely interested in you, would you go?" 

"I . . . don't know," Sherlock said, not having really thought about that. Why would he go out with someone? Unlike John, Sherlock already had everything he needed at the flat. "I doubt I would unless you thought I should," he said.

"Don't be stupid!" John said. "It's not my decision." The whole point was to find out what Sherlock actually wanted.

"But I don't know about this sort of stuff and you do," Sherlock said. "I'd rather defer to your expertise."

"Dating is easy," John said. "This would be a date if we decided to call it one. Let's just see what else happens, I guess," he added. 

It felt like now John wanted him to start dating -- had Mrs Hudson been talking to him? He took a few bites of food. "Thanks for bringing dinner, by the way," he said.

"You said so before," John smiled. He looked over Sherlock for a moment and nodded. "No problem." 

"What are we doing this evening?" Sherlock said. "I mean . . . do you have a date or something?"

"Nope. I was going to read before bed but I figured since I was holed up last night, I could stay up with you for a bit. If you wanted," he added quickly. 

"I do," Sherlock said. "This other person -- whoever they are -- has been distracting me too much."

"Have they? In a bad way?" he asked, not realising that might be an odd thing to ask. 

"Yes, in a bad way," Sherlock said. "I mean, they've been distracting me from this, us. I feel like we've not talked about anything but them and we don't even know them."

"Oh, I thought you always like talking about your mysteries, your cases," John said.

"I don't think this is a case. I don't know what this is and I don't . . ." Sherlock trailed off. "Can we stop talking about it?"

John nodded. "Today a man came in who thought that using his inhaler meant spraying it on his neck like cologne," he said.

"I presume you refused to see him -- idiots do not deserve the level of care you offer," Sherlock said.

"Of course I saw him and I explained, and he's breathing a lot better now." John smirked as he already imagined Sherlock's answer to that.

"You're a good doctor," Sherlock said. He stood up and put the kettle on.

John's smile faltered, and he looked at Sherlock with slightly raised eyebrows. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "I suppose," he said.

"Shut up," Sherlock said. "You know you are. I don't pick bad doctors for friends obviously." He poured two mugs of tea.

"All right, don't shout," John said. He felt very pleased at Sherlock's compliment, but he tried not to get carried away.

Sherlock returned to the table with the tea. "Well, I should clarify actually: the way I said it implies I had a whole queue of people who wanted to be my friend and I eliminated some from the competition just because they were bad doctors. I didn't have a queue. It was only you, John. It's always been you." He took a sip of tea. "I guess I'm just trying to say -- you're good, you know . . . you're a good person." He stared into his mug.

John flushed and looked over at Sherlock now, blinking and processing those words. "Well . . . thank you, Sherlock. You're really good too," he said. 

"I'm good at solving cases, you mean," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes a little.

"No, that's not what I mean," John said. "That's not the only thing that's good about you."

"Now don't start telling lies, John, or I may have to re-evaluate your status as a good person," Sherlock said smiling a little. He wasn't sure why he was smiling actually, but he didn't stop.

"You're smart and clever," John continued. "And, in your own odd way, you're thoughtful." 

"Hmmm, I'm not sure about that . . . " Sherlock said. "Are you just trying to get me to offer to wash up?" He was still smiling and still didn't feel like stopping. He took the plates to the sink anyway and washed them. He sat back down. "Now what are we going to do?"

"Let's go sit in the living room. Maybe you can play the violin for me or we can watch a film or something," John said. 

"All right," Sherlock said. He stood up and moved to his chair. "I'm too tired to play -- let's just watch a film." John picked a film, and Sherlock flopped onto the sofa to watch. This was better. He didn't need a stranger, even a stranger who was an admirer. John was all he needed.

John eventually moved to the sofa as he started to get a little sleepy, but he tried really hard not to get too close to Sherlock and give anything away.

When the film was over, Sherlock stretched a little and stood up. "I think I'll go to my room and read for a bit," he said.  
  
John smiled and said good night, turning off all of the lights and heading up to his own room. He needed to think about what to do now. He needed to make it clear that this was about a date. Sherlock already thought the person wanted to meet just because a restaurant was mentioned. So now John had to drive that point further. He lay in bed trying to come up with his next move.


	3. John's Second New Plan

When John woke up in the morning, he opened his blog and looked through the cases. Then he went to Sherlock's to post.

**07.52 Nov 10**

**Just how many speckles did the blonde have?-Anonymous**

John got ready for work, knowing there wasn't an exact answer. But Sherlock would puzzle over it for a while and later John would reveal a number to indicate a time. 

Sherlock woke to the sound of his phone and as he was opening his laptop, he heard John in the kitchen. He was glad John was home so he could get his take on the comment. He read it over a few times before standing up and leaving the room.

"The person's back, John," he said, reaching for the mug of tea John had already made him. "The comment's about a specific case -- are you sure this is still flirting?" 

John moved to look over his shoulder. "Hmm . . . looks like a puzzle to me," he said. "I have to go to work but let me know if you figure it out, okay?" He grabbed his toast and left the flat, smiling at the thought of Sherlock trying to piece it together.

Sherlock watched John leave. He moved over to his desk and reread the comment and then went to John's blog to reread the original post on the case. Obviously there was no mention of the specific number because there wasn't a specific number and if they'd properly understood the post, they'd know that. So there must be some importance attached the concept of a number as well as the specific number itself.

It could be a date -- maybe Sherlock and this person had already met and the answer was when it had happened. Or -- since he still was a little worried this whole thing was menacing -- it could be the date of something that was going to happen. Or maybe it was a time? 

He looked up and realised he'd been lost in his head for a while now. But he hadn't really enjoyed it because he still didn't know what exactly was happening, who this person was, and why they were interrupting Sherlock's life. If this had been a case, he'd have enjoyed the work because he'd know that the end would mean solving a crime. But what would the end of this be? John seemed to be convinced it was purely personal -- someone with a crush simply flirting with Sherlock -- and seemed to think Sherlock should be flattered. But why would someone do that? And why would Sherlock enjoy it?

As much as Sherlock liked cases and puzzles and cases in his work, he did not like them in his life. He liked people like John, who didn't play games. John Watson was just John Watson, a man who still had a mystery to him yes, but who was just . . . well, like Sherlock had said last night, a man who was just good. When Sherlock had met John, he hadn't known everything about him but he had known this was someone he wanted in his life. And now John was in his life and everything was good as it was. Sherlock didn't need this anonymous person's tricks or even their admiration. He had John and John was the only person Sherlock needed.

He didn't post a reply to the comment but instead texted John.

_I'm bored of this puzzle. If they want to date me, they should ask. Otherwise, I've lost interest. SH_

John was about to check the blog and see if Sherlock had responded, but his phone went off before he could. He bit his lip.

_Would you go it they asked you out right? -JW_

_If you thought I should, I would, I guess. I just don't like all this faffing about. SH_

_It's not up to me! -JW_

_Yes, it is. I'm not capable of making decisions like that. What does it matter? Don't you have someone's ears to look into or something? Stop bothering me, I'm working. SH_

John felt like he was losing control of this experiment. He'd have to be a bit more upfront. He finished his lunch and saw a few more patients before going to Sherlock's blog.

**15.38 Nov 10**

**Seven. -Anonymous**

He hit send and logged out quickly. Even Sherlock would be unable to misinterpret that he was obviously being asked out on a date.

Sherlock read the message. Seven was a time. He now had a place and time and he knew John had been right. Sherlock was being asked out on a date. He wasn't sure what to do now.

**15.50 Nov 10**

**That doesn't show much faith in my abilities, to give up the answer so quickly. SH**

He closed up the laptop. He wasn't even sure why he'd sent that. This all made him feel a bit odd. It felt like someone else was invading their world and for some reason, John didn't seem bothered by it at all. That bothered Sherlock a little.

John smiled at the reply.

**16.02 Nov 10**

**I suppose I could use some patience as well.-Anonymous**

He called in the last patient of the day, waiting for an alert to go off with more questions or complaints from Sherlock. But there was no more activity on the blog.

Sherlock opened his laptop again and read the most recent comment. Then he picked up his phone.

_John, they're definitely asking me out on a date. Please come home and sort this for me. SH_

_Sherlock, relax. Do you want to go on a date? -JW_

_I don't know who they are, John. SH_

_That's true, but not really an answer to the question. -JW_

All of a sudden, John realised there might be a hole in this plan. What if the only thing stopping Sherlock from this date was the fact it was a stranger? John had been worried Sherlock wouldn't even considering dating at all, but perhaps all John was determining was that Sherlock didn't date strangers. John wasn't a stranger, but as far as Sherlock knew, John wasn't the one asking him out on a date.

_What am I supposed to do? SH_

_You're allowed to say no if you're uncomfortable. -JW_

_You're the only person I'm comfortable with. You know that. Everyone knows that. SH_

John put his phone down and bit his lip. He could ask Sherlock on a date right now and he might say yes. But if he said no, John would have revealed his interest and everything between them would be ruined. He didn't send a response.

Sherlock took his tea into the bathroom and ran a hot bath. He got in and tried to put the whole admirer out of his mind.

John pulled up the blog before he left the office. He needed to finish this and see what Sherlock would do -- on his own, without any pressure from John. At least if he knew a date with a stranger was out of the question, John could have to come up with a new plan to test out Sherlock's feelings.

**18.17 Nov 10**

**Saturday. -Anonymous**

Sherlock got out of the bath and didn't look at his phone or computer. He lay down on the sofa, flipping through the newspaper as he waited for John to come home.

On the way home, John thought more about what might happen. If Sherlock said yes, John would meet him at Angelo's and confess everything. Then he realised, he'd need an excuse to be out of the flat Saturday evening. The second he walked in, he said, "Oh! I'll be so busy on Saturday. I'm picking up an extra shift so I'll be busy. I am, actually. So busy."

Sherlock looked over at John. "What? Fine, all right, whatever," he said, sitting up. "I don't want to talk about any of this date business, okay? Let's just put it out of our heads, okay?"

"All right," John said. He heated leftovers for dinner and sat down to watch the news. Sherlock must have not seen the comment yet.

Sherlock picked a bit of food off of John's plate as they watched the telly. He decided to go to bed a bit early -- the bath has helped relax him and he didn't want to get his brain too stimulated. He slipped under the covers but within an hour, he realised it was too early and he was going to end up agitated if he didn't do something. He got up and went out to get his laptop, bringing it back to bed. He checked his blog.

**18.17 Nov 10**

**Saturday. -Anonymous**

Well, now he knew everything about this so-called date: Angelo's, seven on Saturday. He reached for his phone to text John, but then he thought for a moment.

Saturday. The day John came bursting into the flat talking about.

He looked back at the comment to see when it had been posted. About a half hour before John got home from work, which normally took him a half hour to get home from.

John Watson, you sneaky little shit, Sherlock thought.

But why?

Sherlock was going to find out. He typed out a reply.

**23.57 Nov 10**

**I look forward to it. SH** _  
_


	4. Sherlock's Plan

John had gone to bed early as well but didn't sleep very well, his nerves making it even harder to turn off his brain. He kind of regretted starting this whole thing. He wished he'd just been normal and talked to Sherlock about his feelings. But their friendship wasn't entirely normal, and god knows, Sherlock was far from normal when it came to feelings. 

As soon as he woke up he was opening the computer. Sherlock rarely slept the whole night, he must have checked it by now. He saw the reply and blinked. He wanted to meet them. Sherlock wanted to go on a date with a stranger.

He got up quickly, went to the bathroom and then down to make tea. He knew he couldn't say anything about it. He just had to wait.

Sherlock checked the blog and his phone when he woke up, but there were no new comments or texts. He heard John in the kitchen so he got up, slipping his dressing gown around him.

"Well, I did what you want -- I accepted the date," Sherlock said.

"A date? You're going?" John asked, turning to face Sherlock. 

"You told me to," Sherlock said, taking his mug of tea.

"I did not," John said. "I said go if you want to, so you must want to. Don't try to make me responsible."

"But you are responsible for it," Sherlock said, pausing for just a second. "I mean, you seem to like dates so maybe I should give it a try. I told you I would defer to your expertise and you can deny it now but you made it pretty clear I should be more open-minded."

"I'm just surprised, I guess," John said. "I didn't think you were interested in all that."

"In all what?" Sherlock asked.

"Dating and . . . all that," he said again. "That's what you said that first night."

"Well, that's what you say when you don't feel like talking about romance," Sherlock said. "Think about it -- that night, I was considering whether or not you might be a useful partner. I mean, for cases. We were working a case. I needed both of us to focus."

"Oh…" John said a bit deflated. Well, that made sense. So that comment hadn't meant that Sherlock wasn't into dating which meant that John could have asked at any time. But why had it taken some comments from a total stranger to get Sherlock interested in dating? He was so handsome, he could have found someone on his own, but he'd never even shown an interest. And now all of a sudden, a romance with a total stranger was a possibility? 

Yes, this experiment of John's was well out of hand.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself," he said feebly. "I hope this person is just what you're looking for." He put some toast in as he grabbed his coat to head out.

Sherlock watched him leave. He smiled a little at what must be going on in John's head. He set his phone on his desk and opened his blog in a separate window, wondering what John was going to do next.

At work, John struggled to focus -- he kept running through options. If he showed up at Angelo's for the date, Sherlock would feel tricked and that was not the feeling John wanted him to have when he found out about John's feelings. But if he stood Sherlock up -- let Sherlock think the stranger was standing him up -- would Sherlock turn against dating for good? John felt like he'd boxed himself into a corner. He tried to put it all out of his mind, hoping to concentrate on his patients instead. He didn't rush through the day and even walked home a little more slowly.

When Sherlock heard John downstairs, he made some tea and brought two mugs into the sitting room. John came in and joined him.

"Work okay?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, tiring," John said. "Another early night for me, I think." He still hadn't decided what to do and didn't think being with Sherlock would help him figure it out.

Sherlock was quiet for a bit. "You know, it's been a long time since I had anything close to a date," Sherlock said. "I wish you were going to be around when I got home . . . you know, just in case I need to talk about it."

"Yeah, sorry about that, but you know, we're just swamped at work," John said. 

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked. "A date is a night, John. You're not going to be at work past midnight." He looked over at John, trying to read his face. What was John doing? He couldn't tell if John was happy or unhappy about his decision to go on the date. He still wasn't sure what John's goal was.

"I might be sleeping, I mean. From working. You can tell me all about it Sunday morning." He got up suddenly and started to go upstairs. "I should shower -- long day -- and maybe go to bed," he explained. 

"John," Sherlock said. "What's wrong? I mean, this whole thing was your idea." He watched John's face closely.

"It wasn't me," John said, looking over quickly. "I mean, I never said you had to go. You said you wanted to go." 

Hmmm, Sherlock thought. A bit defensive. "I told you, John, I'd defer to your expertise. From the beginning of this whole thing, you were quite . . . enthusiastic so I said yes." He sat down on his chair. "Do you want me to cancel it? I will -- I'll do what you want. Do you want this date to happen or not?"

John didn't really know the answer to that question, so instead he asked, "Why are you meeting this person? I mean, a stranger, someone you don't even know? What made you agree?" John wanted to Sherlock to want him, not someone else, even if only John knew that someone else didn't really exist.

"As you pointed out, they were mysterious and I like mystery. They said I was handsome and no one really says that to me. And besides, I listen to you," Sherlock said. "I want to do whatever you want me to do." Surely, that line would get some response.

"But you don't . . . I mean, you said you weren't interested in that kind of stuff and now all of a sudden you are and it's with someone you don't even know. That just surprises me -- I thought you didn't want any of that, that's what you said but I guess you've changed your mind," John rambled. 

"I said I wasn't looking," Sherlock said. "And I'm still not." He watched John's face. "But it seems sometimes we find what we aren't looking for."

"In a stranger online?" John asked before he could help himself. 

"No," Sherlock said. "Not in a stranger online." He finished his tea and set the mug in the sink. "I have some work to do. I guess I might not see you before you leave for work tomorrow -- I'll probably sleep in a bit, you know, to get my beauty sleep," he added, grabbing a book and heading to his bedroom. He shut the door and lay down on the bed.

John huffed and went up to his own room, pacing back and forth. He considered letting Sherlock go and not finding anyone there. That was mean and would probably end all talk of Sherlock dating anyone. But god, he was so embarrassed by it all now. How could he possibly show up and explain it all without looking like a total idiot?


	5. The Date

When Sherlock woke up, he was surprised. He hadn't remembered falling to sleep. He stretched a little. It was Saturday afternoon. Tonight was the date. He wondered if John was in the flat or whether he was pretending to go off to work. For a moment, he wondered if he'd got it wrong. But he thought of John's face last night, and Sherlock was certain he was right. John was behind the letter and the blog comments and the date.

He thought about why John might have to do this. What was he trying to do? If John had wanted something to change between them, why hadn't he just said something directly? John didn't play games and this felt like a game. Sherlock thought about the last night's conversation and John's insistence about Sherlock's having "changed his mind" -- was John testing Sherlock in some way? To what end?

All of this was so confusing to Sherlock. When he met John, he was looking for a flatmate, which John became. But Sherlock had found what he hadn't been looking for -- a blogger, a colleague, a friend and now . . . well, he didn't know the right word for what they were now but it was more than friends. In fact, Sherlock thought he and John loved each other. Maybe not in the way most people defined love, but it was love to Sherlock. Wasn't it to John? Probably not. John wanted love from a woman, not a man. That's what John had made clear . . . unless John had been the one whose mind had changed.

Sherlock knew he should just get up and go ask him. But John had decided to do all this anonymously so Sherlock leaned over and opened the laptop. There were no new messages.

**14.11 Nov 12**

**I'm feeling eager. How will I recognise you? SH**

John's phone made a sound and he picked it up, looking at the new blog message. He tossed his phone and didn't reply. There will be no one there to recognise, he thought to himself. He had finally made his decision last night: this had to end. He wasn't going to go and he didn't want to be a part of this anymore. He had made a bad choice and would just have to accept it. He was going to hide in his room all day, letting Sherlock assume he was at work. Sherlock could go out, be let down, and hopefully tomorrow things would just be back to how they were -- John longing for Sherlock and Sherlock being oblivious.

Sherlock waited a bit for a response but none came. Hmm . . . He tried to go back to sleep, but then he realised he actually was feeling eager -- part of it was probably just because of his desire to figure out precisely what was going on, but there was also a part that was just looking forward to spending the evening with John. Eventually he got up and went into the kitchen. John's mug was not in the sink -- there was no way John would go out anywhere before having a cup of tea -- but the flat was quiet. John did not want Sherlock to know he was home. That was fine. Sherlock didn't know what that meant, but he'd respect it. Whatever John was doing, Sherlock would respect because Sherlock respected John.

After his tea, he decided to take a bath. He soaked in the hot water and thought about times he and John had spent together. So many of them seemed like evidence of love, even though neither of them had ever said the word. The only thing that was missing was . . . well, not touching because they did touch and those touches were unlike other touches Sherlock had given or received. He loved those touches actually. In fact, really the only thing that was missing was sex. Was this little test of John's about sex? But John liked women. Was this a test for Sherlock or for John? Did John want that from Sherlock now?

Sherlock spent the rest of the bath considering that option. When he'd decided on what his response would be, he got out and went into his room. Eventually he got dressed, and at a quarter to seven, he went up and knocked on John's bedroom door.

John's chest ached a bit when he heard Sherlock moving around downstairs, feeling guilty that Sherlock was excitedly getting ready, without knowing he would find an empty seat at the restaurant. When John heard the knock on his door, he froze, not entirely sure what to do.

Sherlock knocked again.

John realised pretending to be out was stupid. "They didn't need me at work so I'm just reading," he called. "Um . . . have fun on your date," he added, feeling horrible about it all.

"I intend to," Sherlock said. He stayed standing outside the door. "It's almost seven, John," he added. "Don't leave your date waiting."

"You have the date. Not me," John said. And then Sherlock's words properly registered, and he looked over at the door. He got up and pulled the door open. "You know," he said simply, looking up at him.

"I didn't initially, so you got me there," Sherlock said, smiling a bit stupidly. "But yes, I know. Now do you understand why I agreed to go?"

John flushed lightly and rubbed a hand over his face. He didn't really understand. "I just wanted to know of you had changed your mind. I felt like I couldn't ask -- I didn't want to ruin anything between us if you weren't interested. I tried to do it undercover, but I guess I didn't plan it very well," he admitted.

"You did fine, John," Sherlock said, watching him closely. "Of course, you could have just asked directly . . . but I know you find mysteries fun." He realised he was still smiling and couldn't stop even if he wanted to, which he didn't. "So you've solved your mystery now . . . what do you plan to do with the information?"

John's face flushed a little. He looked up at Sherlock. "You look handsome," he said quietly.

"Thank you," Sherlock said. "You look . . . well, you look like perhaps you've changed your mind. Are you breaking our date?"

John sighed. Was Sherlock teasing him? "Sherlock, I know I made a mess of it pretending to be someone else, but . . . my feelings . . . they're real. For you. What I feel is more than friendship."

"John, what we have already is more than friendship. I thought if even I knew that, surely you would see. Are you saying you didn't?" Sherlock asked.

"But that first night, you said you weren't interested. And when I realised I felt . . . I didn't know what to do. Or think," John tried to explain, still not sure what Sherlock was actually saying.

Sherlock realised now how big this change was to John. He should've thought about that before. "I'm sorry, John," he said. "It appears neither one of us is very good at being clear about feelings." He looked at John's face. "From my point of view . . . what we are . . . I mean, all the things we do, the way we live -- well, we're not just friends, are we?"

John thought back to everything, to every moment of their lives, including things Sherlock had done and said. It was obvious that those things were shared with John and John alone. Sherlock had been telling him all along, but John had been too distracted looking for the usual clues. "I suppose, that's true. We already are more than friends," he agreed slowly.

"Except for one thing, though . . . right?" Sherlock asked quietly.

John looked up at his face and licked his lips lightly. "Except for one thing," he agreed.

"And you think you're interested in that thing now, with me, I mean?" Sherlock asked.

"I've thought about it," John admitted. He'd never thought about being with a man before, but he had thought about being with Sherlock. "Have you?" he asked tentatively.

"I've shown up for the date, haven't I?" Sherlock said. He took a step to move closer to John. "Shall we try, then?"

John felt his whole body warm. He watched Sherlock move closer, watched Sherlock's head tip, and he knew that Sherlock was about to kiss him. He let him.

"That was good," Sherlock said softly. "I'm relatively confident we know how to go out to dinner together, seeing as we've done it a thousand times. Perhaps we should stay home this evening and concentrate on the things we haven't done before?" He held onto John's hands.

John nodded. "Okay," he said.

Sherlock reached round John, sliding his hands up under his jumper. He kissed John again, pressing against him, pushing their bodies together as he walked John backwards.

John fell into the kiss, bumping the bed and almost dropped onto it. He clutched at Sherlock's shirt before steadying himself, working at the buttons.

Sherlock pulled John's jumper up over his head, throwing it on the floor. He held John's head in his hands, losing his fingers in his hair, and kissed his mouth again.

John moaned softly. He felt a little lost in all this, hardly believing it was happening. He reached down to try to get Sherlock's belt off, almost losing his balance again.

Sherlock stopped and pulled back. "John Watson," he said, smiling widely. "Hold on. We're not teenagers, we don't have to rush. One thing you've done is show me that occasionally it's useful to act like a grown up. Your little scheme might not have been very grown up and perhaps neither was my behaviour. But now . . . let's act like grown ups, okay?" He moved closer to John's bed, pulled down the covers, and started to take off his own clothes. He nodded at John to take off the rest of his.

"But that's not as fun," John complained. He was forced back into reality now -- this was happening. Not like he had thought it would, but it was happening. His nerves hit him like a speeding train.

Sherlock kept his boxers and then slid under the covers. "Get in the bed with me," he said. "Let's have fun."

John climbed into the bed and moved closer to Sherlock. "I'm nervous now," he admitted.

Sherlock pulled John close. He buried his head in John's shoulder and said, "Don't be. I'm still me, John, you know me." He stroked John's arm lightly. "You know that I'm not normal with . . . things like feelings. I'm sorry I assumed you'd know what was going on in my head. I'm sorry I wasn't clearer. But you've been the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. I'm happy with what we are. And I'm happy for this to be part of us now." His arms wrapped around John, pulling him closer, as his mouth moved over John's neck.

John was a bit overwhelmed by what Sherlock was saying. He cursed himself for not seeing it all before. "I shouldn't have tried to make this fit into some stupid idea about dating," he said. "I should have opened my eyes to what we already had."

"But we didn't have this," Sherlock said. "Your failed attempt at trickery led to this . . . and I do want this." He let his hands move up and down John's back, feeling each muscle and the way it moved as John's body moved against him. His mouth moved from John's neck to his lips and back again -- tasting John's skin, breathing in his scent.

"I do, too," John moaned softly.

Sherlock slipped a hand to the front of John's body and into his pants, wrapping his fingers around John's hardening cock. He kissed John's mouth again. He realised that despite his own stupidity about love and relationships, Sherlock knew more about having sex with a man than John did. "Touch me," he whispered. 

John gasped softly. He pulled at Sherlock's boxers, freeing his cock, and started stroking it as he would stroke his own.

Sherlock began to rock against John. Their skin was hot and damp. He pushed John onto his back and crawled on top of him, grinding against him. He kissed his mouth and then dropped to his neck and chest, licking and sucking on each of his nipples. Then he slipped his hand between their bodies and stroked both of their cocks as he continue to roll his hips. "God, you feel good," he moaned softly.

John couldn't make any words so he just nodded, running his hands up and down Sherlock's back.

"Have you got a condom?" Sherlock asked. His breath was now heavy, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

John nodded. "Box in the drawer," he said as he reached for it. "And lube," he added, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Sherlock didn't notice. He reached for the lube and dribbled some into his hand before stroking John again. He kissed his mouth hard and rolled his hips against John's. Then he moved his hand between John's legs. "Do you want me to do this?" he asked before going any further. 

A small noise left John's mouth as his body arched off the bed. "Yes," he said.

Sherlock smiled and pressed his finger against John's hole. "Just relax into it," he whispered, and then pushed it inside, starting a soft, slow rhythm. John had said he'd thought about this, and Sherlock would be lying if he pretended the thought had never crossed his mind. But John's insistence on not being gay had made it seem like it could never happen. Now Sherlock realised just how much he'd wanted it. He shifted his body a little so he could press against John's leg. He kissed John's mouth. "You're so sexy," he said as he continued to move his hips and hand.

"You are," John said, bringing his hands up to Sherlock's head so they could kiss. He hadn't been sure what this would be like, but now he knew that didn't matter -- nothing he could have imagined would have felt this good. "More," he mumbled against Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock slowly pushed another finger inside John. "This is good, John," he moaned because it was. He kissed John's mouth hard, sucking on his bottom lip.

John moaned his agreement before shifting to catch his mouth again in another kiss. "It feels good, Sherlock," he exhaled.

Sherlock slipped in another finger, stretching John. He looked at John's face to see if he was ready and when John nodded, Sherlock reached for a condom and slid it on. He was hard and aching, so much so he worried he wouldn't be able to last long. He shifted, pulling John's legs a bit further apart and lined himself up, slowly pushing in.

John's mouth fell open in a silent moan as he felt Sherlock pushing into his body. And then the moan escaped, long and deep as Sherlock seated into him. "One-one second," he gasped, breathing carefully as he tried to relax. 

Sherlock stayed still, concentrating on the tightness around him. Then suddenly he was a bit overwhelmed by what was happening -- the line they'd just crossed. He looked up at John's face -- John, his flatmate, his colleague, his friend. The only one that Sherlock had ever really loved. He took a deep breath and squeezed John tightly, waiting for a sign for him to move. 

"Okay, you can move," John said softly, kissing Sherlock's shoulder and neck while he was bent forward like that. He needed to feel more and knew Sherlock must as well.

Sherlock began with a slow roll of his hips, but he couldn't maintain it for long. He started to thrust as gently as he could, feeling the bed rock with his movements. "God, John," he moaned, moving his mouth against John's neck.

"Sherlock -- yes," John panted, pushing his head back against the pillow. It was perfect. Sherlock was perfect and everything felt perfect and they were finally as close as they could be. And this was everything John wanted and now he knew Sherlock wanted it too.

Sherlock pushed harder, further, needing to be closer. He pulled John's hand between their bodies, wanting him to stroke himself. He squeezed shut his eyes and turned off his brain, and his body took over. "John, I --" he called. "I can't --" But it was too late and suddenly he was coming, his body arching and freezing before releasing.

The sight of that was too much for John, and he came over both their bellies. He shuddered and called Sherlock's name, sinking down into the bed. His hand moved lazily on his own cock until there was nothing left.

"Fuck, that was gorgeous," Sherlock mumbled, crumbling beside John. He was panting so he tried to catch his breath. He pulled off the condom and moved closer to John. "I hadn't realised how much I wanted this," he said.

John could only smile as he was still trying to catch his breath. He turned and faced Sherlock. "It was . . . different, but it felt good," he said softly.

"Listen to me, John," Sherlock said, stroking John's cheek softly. "I know all of this is different to what you're used to and I'm sorry I . . . just let me be clear now -- I do love you. I'm obviously not good at saying it or showing it, but I have felt it for a while. I presumed you knew we were different and I presumed you'd understand that what made us different was that I loved you. But you didn't so I'm saying it now. Okay?"

"I just thought the fact that I was your friend made us different. I didn't know you loved me -- I didn't think you were interested in love," John said.

"And I didn't think you were interested in sex with a man," Sherlock grinned.

"I guess I was," John laughed.

"I guess so," Sherlock said. "So know we both know everything so . . . no more funny business, okay?"

"No more funny business," he agreed. "I still feel like an idiot for all that."

"You're forgiven, even though it was pretty idiotic to try to fool Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said, smiling.

"But I did fool you a bit," John teased.

"Well, you fooled me into believing you were straight," Sherlock teased back. He slipped an arm around John. "Things change, John, but from now on, we need to be clear. From now on, we have to be who we are, whatever that is, okay?"

John nodded against Sherlock's chest. His plan hadn't worked as he'd intended but everything he'd said had been true. He did admire Sherlock's brilliance and handsome face. And they did have so much in common. He loved Sherlock and now he knew that Sherlock loved him, too.


End file.
